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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862007">Folie À Deux</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMajesty/pseuds/PurpleMajesty'>PurpleMajesty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>We Happy Few (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Consensual, F/M, Genderless, Groping, Kissing, M/M, Multi, No Sex, Original Character(s), References to Drugs, Romantic Fluff, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:33:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMajesty/pseuds/PurpleMajesty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot told from the perspective of an OC producer (gender unspecified) working at Wellington Wells Broadcasting Tower, or, what happens when an undercover Downer begins to develop some unprofessional thoughts and feelings about Uncle Jack.<br/>Nothing too naughty here but rated Mature just in case.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uncle Jack (We Happy Few)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Folie À Deux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(A/N) After being quarantined for almost 5 weeks I decided it was time I got back to writing. And after re-playing WHF again my undeniable crush on Uncle Jack resurfaced so what better subject to write about!<br/>Just FYI, the transcript of his show at the beginning of the story is taken directly from an actual 'News Hour' segment, so if there are any grammatical errors in there... just blame whoever writes his lines lol.<br/>Hope you like my story I knocked out over the course of today 🖤</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was five minutes to four and my colleague, Jack Worthing, was coming to the end of presenting the daily Wellington Wells News Hour, broadcast live across the region, watched by pretty much everyone. As a producer working at the town's main broadcasting tower in the Parade District, I had been squirrelling away behind the scenes on these shows for goodness knows how long.</p><p>"Ah, yes," he crooned in his signature chesty baritone, grinning that same painted-on, toothy grin that he always did. "I'm happy to inform you that the shipment of tainted vegetables has been completely removed from our streets. If you hadn't heard, there had been an unfortunate outbreak of botulism at - er, in the vegetables at your local green grocer. But there's no need to worry - you won't find a single vegetable for sale in Wellington Wells."<br/>
Really, Jack's television talents were wasted on this kind of idiocy. Blathering on about root vegetables, piñatas and other such nonsense was far below a man of his presenting calibre. I could see this now... well, so could anyone who was off their Joy. Like I was. And since binning my supply I found just looking at Jack doing what he did best to be such an enrapturing hobby.</p><p>Every Wellie probably thought that Uncle Jack was the big boss of the Broadcasting Corporation and that we were all his underlings. Frankly speaking that wasn't true at all - rather, Jack was the same as all of us lot, trapped under the boot heels of the REAL higher-ups. If anything the man had it worse; he was the face of the people, for the people, the ones being misled and controlled. He needed to do his job well or decent Englishmen and women would revolt, society would collapse. Jack had a heck of a lot of pressure put on him, not that he realised this of course, due to the whole being drugged up to the eyeballs thing. Small mercy.</p><p>"'Yes, ah, but what about my stew?', you may ask!" he went on merrily. "Well, not to worry. The authorities are looking into providing vegetables from new sources, and they should have more about that for you in the upcoming days."</p><p>What would Jack be like if he weren't constantly conked off his gourd on happy pills? That glazed look in his eyes gone, more alert, sharper, wittier perhaps? His true personality allowed to shine through... I'd love to be around to witness that. Well, on the other hand, maybe I wouldn't, because if he weren't a Joy addict he'd likely be something much worse. Memories of the past might be enough to break a man as emotionally fragile as Jack. It was difficult to contemplate.</p><p>"And, I'm afraid we've come to the end of our time. Tune in again tomorrow for more timely, informative and cheery news of Wellington Wells. This is Jack Worthing saying goodbye, and on with your day. See you soon."</p><p>I snapped out of my trance.</p><p>~ . ~</p><p>A spotlight shone through the window across the room from my desk, hitting my face for a split second and jolting me awake in a panic. The bobbies with their headlights out in the street, patrolling... hang on, that must mean it's past curfew. I squinted over at the clock on my desk. 11:30pm. Damn and blast! I must have fallen asleep whilst going over all of Jack's transcripts for the next day's shows.</p><p>Since coming off my Joy I'd become obsessed with writing up, proof-reading and censoring all of them, even though that wasn't exactly my job role here. It wasn't as if anybody else did much work around here for themselves anyway - there were stacks of half-finished work piled up all over the place, not that anyone but me could notice that. But I think I just wanted to do a great job in order to show everybody that I was 'normal', like them still, not a Downer. In reality I was so disillusioned and just wanted to feel something different to their manufactured euphoria for a change. Being nose-deep in my work helped to distract me from certain thoughts I'd been having of late, some rather seductive but most just downright unpleasant.</p><p>I sighed. "Oh, well. Can't go outside at this hour. Had better find a blanket and settle down on a sofa or something..." I trudged down the hallway leading out of my cramped office and ended up passing the gloomy, unlit office of a fellow producer - hold on, something moved in there. What on earth...?<br/>
That thing that I had sworn a second ago was a large raincoat draped across the desk, it moved, and then it spoke.</p><p>"Ah, dear friend. You're still here at this ungodly hour? Come here, drink with me." The gentleman's voice was unmistakable, instantly recognisable from the hundreds of broadcasts I'd sat through time after time. I struggled to see in the dark but felt my way over to him. Jack was carelessly sprawled out supine across this random woman's desk, a bottle of scotch clutched in his left hand, his right hand laid across his chest which was rising and falling steadily, slowly, calmly. My eyes had adjusted somewhat and I could see him slightly better. I noticed he'd removed his happy mask.</p><p>"I... I uh, fell asleep I think, and um - er, well you know..." I motioned awkwardly in the air with my hand, at a loss for words, floundering. My heart started pounding a little as his glowing eyes patiently studied my face, which was heating up, hopefully unbeknownst to him in the darkness. "Working a little too hard, I suppose," I finally muttered by way of explanation.</p><p>"I've noticed, you know. How hard you work for my sake. It doesn't go unappreciated by me! Here, this will put the sprite back in your step. Everyone on this staff seems to have a supply stashed away somewhere in their desks. Enhances the effects of Joy, you know." I didn't think that was strictly true, but I was used to hearing Jack embellish the truth by now, so took the bottle from his hand anyway. If anything I just wanted him to stop drinking it for now.<br/>
What was he doing in here at this time of night anyhow? Although I'd recently learned that the best thing to do was to accept that addicts tended to exhibit some unusual behaviours at times, and that maybe I shouldn't ask too many questions. He seemed content. I took a sip and grimaced slightly. Jack chuckled. Well, I never was much of a drinker.</p><p>My eyes swept over to him. He was sitting up now, staring out of the large window in front of us, his lips quirked up in a vague smile, the absence of his happy mask no longer forcing his cheeks into a grin. The streetlights outside illuminated his face, the dim shadows highlighting his chiseled features in a flattering way. I was stood so close I could see his pulse beating in his neck. I don't know for how long I stared at him staring out onto the street below. He was still wearing his dark brown suit from earlier, even after we'd filmed a bedtime story show; he regularly tended to wear his smart clothes under the dressing gown and kerchief, but the viewers needn’t know that.</p><p>With a start I realised that until this moment, I had never seen him bare-faced like this before. He was undeniably a handsome man. The clarity of the Joy withdrawal had made me realise this even more in the last few days and I'd actually found myself thinking about him a lot when I wasn't at work. His true face was even more attractive than I could have ever tried to picture. Jack had light brown hair, much lighter than how it looked in black and white on the telly, and his skin was peppered with little faint freckles all over. His blue eyes gleamed with undeniable, if clouded, experience and wisdom.</p><p>I don't know what made me feel so attracted to him, so romantically drawn in - perhaps his obvious (to me) vulnerability, the fact that this man was really a pawn in the grand scheme of things. This nasty world was feeding off of his naivety and moulding him into something inhuman. I just wanted to save him.<br/>
I perched next to him on the edge of the desk and stared out with him. Just sitting so close to him and sharing his companionship made me feel warmer inside. The scotch did its job in that regard too.</p><p>"I've noticed, you know," he repeated, breaking the silence.</p><p>"I know. You said already," I replied, smiling wanly.</p><p>"No. No, that's not what I'm referring to. I've noticed."</p><p>My throat went dry. Oh God, he doesn’t mean...?</p><p>"Er, I beg your pardon?"</p><p>"I think you know what I’m on about, really. The way you stare at me. You're doing it right now."</p><p>"Oh, bloody hell, Jack." I actually laughed, perhaps a little too loud, thoroughly relieved that he hadn't ratted me out as a Downer. But – but he had uncovered my feelings.</p><p>"Don't be coy," he murmured gently in his smooth radio voice. That voice like clear, dripping honey.<br/>
It wasn't just a put on for when he spoke publicly, he actually talked like that. I turned to face him. My heart lurched and missed a beat, taking my breath away for a moment as I thought of what I wanted to do right now. I regarded him closely as he licked his lips. There's no wedding band on his finger, never has been. Should I...?</p><p>Oh, stuff it. I watched, detached, as my hand impulsively reached across and settled on his inner thigh. Not too high, but high enough that my intentions were obvious. No going back at this point.<br/>
Jack went to say something, but before he could make a sound I closed the space between us quickly, my mouth diving to meet his. My eagerness had thrown him off, as he made a little start of surprise against my lips, reaching behind him for leverage against the desk. To my pleasant surprise, he quickly regained his composure and kissed me back tenderly.</p><p>He was so gentle, cradling and caressing my face with his free hand but something had ignited in me and I needed more.<br/>
Quite abruptly, Jack broke the kiss and stood up. He reached out his hand and I took it, confused.</p><p>"I think we may want to move away from the window. We don't want the nice people in the houses opposite to catch an eyeful, do we?" he said.</p><p>"Don't we?" I breathed, more flirtatiously than I had intended it to sound. He chuckled again, giving me the irresistible urge to shut him up and give him exactly what he'd asked for. Pushing him away from the view of the window and up against the wall behind him, my hands found the back of his head and nimbly laced their way through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up as our mouths once again crashed together, if a little clumsily this time.</p><p>He melted into the wall and allowed me to take control as we made out, my hands now travelling downward and snaking underneath his suit jacket, desperately feeling him up through the waistcoat and shirt. I never wanted this moment to end. My groin pressed his own more firmly against the wall and he gasped a little at the intimate contact, momentarily breaking the kiss once more and in the process allowing my tongue access to explore his hot, wet mouth. I could detect traces of the alcohol on his tongue, as well as another, sweeter taste. Chocolate? His favourite flavour of Joy, of course. He responded with vigour to my deepening the kiss and actually moaned a little.<br/>
Jesus, it drove me crazy having him here like this. All I wanted was to make him feel good. His skin smelled faintly of lavender and some other unidentifiable musk which I supposed was just his own personal aroma. I’d never been physically close enough to Jack to be able to catch that scent before, but now, with my face nuzzled into the nape of his neck while he trailed wet kisses up my neck and along my jawline, all of him was filling every sense I had and sending them into overdrive. By now I was having very, very inappropriate thoughts about Jack but no longer making any effort to suppress them.</p><p>This was all happening very fast and my head was spinning a little at the prospect of how far we were going. Reluctantly, I stopped kissing him for a minute and gazed longingly at his face. Despite the dimly lit corner of the room we were in I could see that the mixture of scotch and our... activities had caused a flush of colour to creep along his cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose. He was panting slightly, staring back at my mouth as I spoke.</p><p>"What are we doing?" I didn't need to whisper, as we were completely alone in the building, but for some reason I felt compelled to.</p><p>"God knows, but we shouldn't be doing it here," he replied with an equal measure of reluctance. Both of my hands were still clutching his chest beneath his jacket, his own cradled around the base of my back. Ever the gentleman, they hadn't strayed any further down my body. He clearly had more restraint than me.<br/>
I wanted so badly to pin his wrists against the wall either side of his head and take him right there and then but it would have been a mistake. We'd already gone further than two slightly intoxicated colleagues should ever go whilst within the walls of their own place of work. As if reading my mind, he planted a ghost of a kiss on my neck once more then gently nudged me away from him and stood himself up straight.</p><p>"We need to get you home, I think."</p><p>I tried to catch my breath. "W-wait, Jack - I can't, it's past-"</p><p>"Past curfew, yes, for you perhaps," he said in a low voice tinged with amusement, while he re-buttoned his jacket and fixed his hair. I looked down at my feet, suddenly shy. I’d been having such an intense time I'd almost forgotten who it was with.</p><p>Jack stepped over to me once more, tilting my chin up to look at him. I smiled weakly back.</p><p>"I'm Uncle Jack, remember? There are certain benefits to being in my position." Of course. The curfew didn't apply to him, although I wasn't sure how comfortable I was with the idea of him regularly wandering home at some ungodly hour if the rumours about Foggy Jack were anything to take seriously.<br/>
"Come along. I'll see that you get back to your home safe and sound. You only live just around the corner anyway, don't you? Really, it's no trouble at all," he said, leading me out the door before I could think of any excuse to stick around longer.</p><p>~ . ~</p><p>It was 12:50 by the time I got to my front door with Jack. The entire walk back with him had been spent in a sort of broody, not uncomfortable silence, with unvanquished lust electrifying the air between us. Standing there with him now, all of a sudden I felt rather tired.</p><p>"Thank you, Jack," I said as I slid my key into the lock. Then I paused. "You don't... want to come in for the night?" To finish what we started, I thought wistfully.</p><p>He reached out and took my hand in his. "Not tonight, no. But I appreciate the offer and I'll be sure to take you up on it another time. After all, if I've learned just one thing from my career in television..." He gave my hand a light squeeze and leaned in closer, until his lips were an inch away from my ear. His breath tickled the side of my face. "...It's to always leave the people wanting more."</p><p>The bobbies loitering closeby eyed me with vague suspicion, narrowing their eyes as Jack danced away from me and up the road until he was gone. The man was a whirlwind and I was standing in the eye of his storm. Shakily I put a not entirely inauthentic smile on my face and nodded to the bobbies, then turned away, quickly entering my house and locking the door behind me. As soon as I was inside my knees buckled and I slid down to the floor, closing my eyes and resting my sore head against the wooden door.</p><p>Did that really all just happen? I couldn't help but burst out laughing at the fucking idea that I had finally just seen, touched and heard Jack Worthing in a way that nobody else in Wellington Wells ever got the privilege to... as far as I knew. Plus, who knew what more was in the cards for he and I in the coming weeks. Therein, however, lay a dilemma. The more time spent around Jack, the more likely it would be for my secret to be discovered. Moreover, he could be the most dangerous friend to keep for this plain reason. I was, clumsily, handling fire here.</p><p>But that night I crawled into bed fantasising, as a daft teenager with a crush would, about him laying there alongside me. For the first night in years, I drifted off into a restful sleep.<br/>
If there was one sure singular thing I could take away from this whole experience, it was that the once seemingly wholesome Uncle Jack was in fact a bona fide tease.</p>
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